


Dear Ethan Nestor

by ohpleaselarry



Category: CrankGameplays - Fandom, Crankiplier - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Crying, Cuddling, Denial, Depression, Fighting, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, High School AU, Hugging, Kissing, M/M, Mental Illness, Panic Attacks, READ TRIGGER WARNINGS IN NOTE, bad boy mark, dear evan hansen au, junior!ethan, senior!mark, suicidal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:35:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24889225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohpleaselarry/pseuds/ohpleaselarry
Summary: The fic that started out as a Dear Evan Hansen AU and ended up being 17k words of angsty high schoolers in love
Relationships: Mark Fischbach/Ethan Nestor, Markiplier/CrankGameplays
Comments: 27
Kudos: 248





	Dear Ethan Nestor

**Author's Note:**

> TRIGGER ⚠️ WARNING!! :this fic contains depression, suicidal tendencies, self harm, anxiety, panic attacks, bullying, and lots of talk about these things. Please do not read this if these are triggers for you. 
> 
> I know yall love to support my works, but think of your own mental health FIRST, and if you’re going through anything at all and need someone to talk to, DM my Instagram, ohpleaselarry, and I’ll be happy to be there 💚
> 
> In other news, this fic turned into something that’s far from DEH haha. It started out as “I wanna write a DEH except Conner(Mark) doesn’t die” and it just spiralled all over the place. I hope yall like it anyway! 
> 
> Also, whenever I write I always listen to a playlist of songs that are almost always melancholy instrumentals/classicals, so I think I’m gonna start putting a song or two for each fic for if any of you like to listen to music while reading. I know it really helps me when I’m writing! 
> 
> Song for this fic: borderland sorrows - slow meadow 
> 
> :)

‘Dear Ethan Nestor, today is going to be a good day. Even though it’s the first day of junior year, and you will likely make zero friends whatsoever..’

Ethan stops typing, sighing in annoyance. He stabs at the backspace key, remembering Dr. Odin’s word. 

“Keep it positive.” He murmurs to himself, starting over. His door opens. He closes the laptop just as his dad steps into the room. 

“Hey, buddy. First day of school, how you feeling?” Dad steps over holding a stack of papers, checking his watch every few seconds. 

“Fine.” 

“Well I have to head off soon, but I found these great scholarships. You’re a junior now so it’s time to start thinking about college. There’s these great writing contests—“

“Sure, I’ll check them out later. I don’t want to miss the bus.” 

His dad stops him, hand on his shoulder. 

“Hey, you good on refills?” 

Ethan nods, stomach twisting. It always comes back to this. Every time. He pulls away and leaves without another word. 

-

He misses the bus. 

It’s not that bad. He doesn’t live _that_ far from the school, and it’s nice to walk alone anyway, not having to be surrounded by loud bus kids. 

The leaves are starting to fall. He passes up three oak trees and seven pines on just his road. It’s nice. He likes trees. 

As soon as the school is in sight, that feeling returns. The twisty, sweaty hands, white spots in his vision kind of feeling. Summer has been his safe haven. No strangers. No peers. No chances to embarrass himself. 

Who knows, maybe everyone will have forgotten about last year’s..incident. 

“Morning, E-E-E-Ethan!” 

He looks up, finding a group of girls standing near the entrance of the library. He doesn’t reply, face flushing bright red as he passes them up, heading inside. 

Nope. They haven’t forgotten. 

He heads over to one of the school computers and logs in, sending a small smile to the librarian, Betty. She’s always been nice to him, letting him sit in here during lunch or pep rallies. He thinks maybe she’s an introvert too, probably. She smiles in return, then looks back down to her book. 

Once his letter is printing, he logs off the computer and takes the long way to the printer, through the aisles of books. He’s not really a big reader. He’s dyslexic and it always gives him headaches, but he still likes books. They smell nice and they never judge him. 

He rounds the aisle and sees someone’s at the printer. He halts in his tracks, heart picking up speed immediately. 

Mark Fischbach. He’s a senior, and the only person in this school who’s more of an outcast than Ethan is. He’s wearing fucking eyeliner, and as he approaches him Ethan can see his nails are painted black to match his already black attire. 

Wait, he’s approaching him? 

Ethan’s hands start to shake. He looks to the floor immediately, clutching the straps of his rucksack tightly. 

“Dear Ethan Nestor, today is going to be a good day. An amazing day. Amazing week and amazing year—“

“P-please don’t read that.” Ethan says far too quietly, closing his eyes at his stutter. 

“I’m going to walk into school smiling, and leave just the same. It definitely won’t be exactly like every other year. I definitely won’t be the exact same person I’ve always been. Who am I kidding? Why would anything be different? I wish everything was different. I wish I was a part of..something. I wish that anything I said mattered. To anyone. I mean, face it—“

Ethan exhales shakily and turns, abruptly walking away. Great. This is a great start. Mark will spread his letter. Let everyone know he’s even more of a fucking weirdo than they already think he is. Fantastic. Wonderful. 

He steps out of the library, only to be tripped by Greg, the hockey captain. He falls, catching himself on his one good arm. His bag, open for some reason, spills all of its contents all over the damn place. 

For a moment, Ethan just lies there, craving death. He hears the laughter of his classmates, the bell to signal first period, and the sound of their footsteps as they walk away. Then it’s just him and his shame. Maybe he’ll lay here forever. Just lay here for three days until he dies of dehydration. 

“C’mon, I don’t bite.” 

He opens his eyes, finding its Mark, standing with a hand outstretched as if he’s helping him up. 

Ethan eyes him warily, but the man just keeps standing there, waiting for him to take the hand. He does, and Mark doesn’t drop him back down and laugh. He doesn’t help him up to push him around. He helps him up and then helps him collect his strewn about things. 

“I wasn’t making fun of you back there.” Mark says, handing him the last of his pencils. Ethan tosses them back into his bag and shoulders it.

“I wasn’t, uh, I wasn’t trying to make it seem like you were. I just n-needed to go to class.” 

“You talk really fast.”

“I’m sorry.” 

“For what?” 

“Um..for talking f-fast. Sorry.” He fumbles with the sleeves of his zip jacket, hands going sweaty. He hates it when his hands sweat, because then it itches at the part of his cast that’s over his hand. 

“How’d you break it?” 

Ethan holds up his casted arm like he forgot about it, swallowing in embarrassment. 

“Oh, uh, I climbed a tree over the summer. Fell off. You know, it was a tall tree. Could’ve happened to anyone, c-could’ve fallen even _with_ good shoes, I mean—“

“Nobody’s signed it. Can I?” Mark doesn’t wait for an answer, reaching into his pocket and retrieving a sharpie pen that he just has for some reason. He steps in closer, taking Ethan’s hand. 

“Ow.” Ethan mumbles. 

“That didn’t even hurt.” Mark says, unexpectedly smiling. Ethan knows because he’s looking at the guy now that he knows he won’t be getting any returning eye contact. 

“Sorry.” He mumbles. Mark has a really nice smile. It really distracts from his dark dark hair and his scary leather jacket. The man suddenly meets his gaze. His eyes are brown, accented well with the eyeliner. 

Ethan looks away to his cast, blushing. Mark’s written his name as big as he could over the whole cast. 

“You apologise too much. We should probably get to class before the late bell.” As if on cue, the late bell rings through the otherwise empty hallway. 

“C-can I have my letter back?” 

“Not a chance. See ya around.” Mark grins and turns on his heel, walking away cooly. Ethan watches him go, then turns the opposite direction, heading towards English. 

He has no idea if Mark hates him or maybe likes him. Either way, he feels a bit better than he did after he was tripped. That’s something, right? 

-

After last period, Ethan opens his locker to grab his history book, when a folded piece of paper flutters down to the floor. He bends down to pick it up. Its a sheet of notebook paper torn in half, a note written in messily quick handwriting:

‘Dear Ethan Nestor, 

People would notice. 

-M’

Ethan folds the paper back up and stuffs it into his pocket before anyone could see it. He frowns as he packs up to go home. How did Mark even find his locker? Sure, the paper could’ve easily been slipped through the slots on the locker, but why? Why respond to his letter to himself like that? Why even bother? 

He doesn’t take the bus, hoping to at least enjoy the walk home. It’s not hot outside anymore, and the breeze is almost chilly. He likes fall. Fall brings him joy. Halloween. Orange and yellow trees. His birthday. 

It’s something. It’s something. 

-

“Ethan Nestor, please report to the principal’s office right away.” 

The class ooo’s and ahh’s as if he’s in trouble. Ethan stands up, praying he doesn’t trip, and shuffles out of french II, taking a breath once he’s out of the room and away from all of their stares. 

It’s only been three days, but he’s already counting towards the end of the year. High school is hell, but at least they always start in the middle of the week, so it’s Friday. 

“I-I was called.” Ethan tells the girl in the front office. She motions to the principal’s office. He walks to the door, chewing on his lip anxiously. There’s a man and a woman sitting on the guest chairs, the principal Mrs. Lane is waiting at her desk, mouth set in a stern line. 

“Ethan, shut the door behind you.” Mrs. Lane says. He complies, then hesitantly sits at the third empty chair when gestured. 

“A-am I in trouble? I swear, the librarian Betty says I’m fine to spend lunch in the library. I’m not skipping, really. I just don’t get hungry during school and it’s nice to just s-sit in there, I—“

“Woah, you aren’t in trouble, kid, it’s about Mark.” The man stops his word vomit with a sad smile. 

“..Mark?” Ethan repeats, as if there’s any other Mark he knows. As if he knows people at all. 

“Well, he’s had another..episode. A bad one, as I’m sure you’re aware. We searched his room again and found this in his closet. It seems like he was hiding it in a box with a gun. We think he was going to use..use the gun..” the man clears his throat, choking up a bit. 

The woman speaks up again, reading the note they seemed to have found. 

“I wish that anything I said mattered. To anyone. I mean, face it: would anyone notice if I just disappeared tomorrow?” She reads out. She has a bit of an accent. Korean, it sounds like. 

“Oh, no, that’s not—he didn’t, he didn’t write that.”

“It’s addressed to you, Ethan. We think it would’ve been his last note.” The man says, showing him the letter as if he hasn’t seen it before. 

“Last?” 

“Mark was going to take his life on the first day of school. That night we found him crying and throwing things everywhere in his room, saying he doesn’t want ‘it’ to disappear. Do you know what he’s talking about? Did he tell you—“

“I’m sorry, I don’t even know him! I’ve talked to him once! Th-this is all just a big misunderstanding, really.” Ethan stands up, heart racing as he finally realises that he’s here talking to Mark’s mom and dad. He recognises her vaguely from 8th grade when she came to school to pull young Mark out of class. His grandfather had died. Two months later he came back to school and he threw a desk at their teacher when she asked if he’s okay. Nobody went out of their way to talk to him after that day. 

“It’s okay, you don’t have to tell us anything. Please, just come see him. He just really needs a friend right now.” 

He wonders why they don’t believe him, then he follows their eyes to his cast, where ‘MARK’ is written out in bright red sharpie. 

Of course. 

“I-I—“ 

“Please. You know how bad he can get. We won’t pry, just come to dinner. Tomorrow at 7?” She stands up and takes his hand. He looks between their sad begging eyes, and can’t find it in him to argue. He nods, stomach turning nervously. 

“Thank you, hun.” She pulls him into a hug. Mark’s dad claps him on the back as well. They’re all so nice. 

Ethan tries to breathe evenly, and wonders what the hell he’s just gotten himself into. 

-

“Sorry, I got called in, I left a 20 on the table for pizza—“ dad’s yanking on his scrub top, rushing like he’s late. If he got called in, that probably means one of the elderly people at the nursing home is dying tonight. For his part time second job, he sure does get called in a lot. 

“It’s alright. I’m going to..Andrews, anyway.” Ethan mentions his cousin, the first person he can think of right away. 

“Alright, have fun, be safe-!” Dad barely finishes the word, leaving the house in a rush. 

Ethan stands up and looks in the mirror for the seventh time in the past twenty minutes, checking his outfit once again. He has no idea if it’s meant to be formal or not, so he went with jeans and a button down under his zip jacket. Dressy and casual at the same time. 

He checks the clock. Thirty minutes. Anxiety swirls in his gut, but it’s not a new feeling. He pops the cap on his pill bottle, and shakes one out. 

He can do this. Right? 

-

“So, Ethan, are you in any clubs at school?” Mark’s mom, Sunok, asks. 

“No ma’am. N-not that I don’t want to be, I just don’t think I’d fit, I mean, I don’t—“

“I get it. I couldn’t stand high school. Clubs were overrated.” Tom, Mark’s older brother, thankfully interrupts his embarrassing rambling. 

“You were in all of them.” Mark finally says something for the first time all evening, though it’s said rather snarkily. Ethan stares down at his plate of food in embarrassment. It’s true. He was a freshman while Tom was a senior. The guy was in everything. All of the sports. All of the clubs, and then he was valedictorian. Pretty much every parent’s wet dream. 

“Well, I never said I liked them—“

“Then why be in them? Why do something you hate? Just to prove you’re more successful than me?” 

“God, Mark, not everything’s about you.” Mark’s dad, Cliff, sighs. 

“Then why does it feel that way? Why did I get your disappointed fucking stares every time he brought home another stupid award?!” Mark stands up, nearing a shout. 

“I-I should leave..” Ethan says, but nobody hears him. 

“Maybe because you don’t do shit but break things and play games!” Tom stands up. 

Ethan can only watch with wide eyes when Mark lunges over the table, tackling his brother to the ground. The shouting just gets louder and louder. Cliff stands up and gets in between the two, breaking up the fight. 

“Take a walk, both of you.” He orders sternly. Tom storms out of the room. 

“You never say anything! Why don’t you ever defend me?!” Mark shouts at his mother, who just sits with her eyes on her plate, eyebrows furrowed. 

“Room, now!” Cliff says. Mark swirls on his heel and stomps up the stairs. 

Ethan stands up to leave, hands shaking in embarrassment. All of this happened because he didn’t join any clubs. Why did he even come? Why didn’t he just stay home? 

“C’mon Ethan.” Mark calls from the top of the stairs. Ethan nearly trips in his haste to get out of the room, both of the guy’s parents just sitting in angry silence, the air thick and hard to breathe in. 

He climbs the stairs and meets Mark at the landing, and follows him down the hall to the last room on the left. Mark locks the door behind them, then stands in front of it, watching Ethan look around the bedroom. 

Its more minimalist than he expected. For Mark’s style, he thought there’d be black curtains over the windows, punk posters on the walls, an electric guitar or something laying around. Instead, it’s just a regular room. Albeit messy, there’s not really any Knick knacks. Just a bed, dresser, and a desktop computer on a desk. The best part of the room is the bay window with a cushion. Ethan always liked those kinds of spots to sit at. 

“Sorry. They found the letter and saying it was for you was the only thing that stopped them from sending me back to rehab. They think if I have a friend then I should stay, and I figured you wouldn’t want your own parents to see it. Anyway, I didn’t think they’d go see you.” 

“I-it’s fine. I don’t mind.” 

“You don’t have to pretend. I know you’re uncomfortable. Just..can you not tell anyone? At school?” Mark stuffs his hands into his pockets, eyes boring into his. He’s not wearing eyeliner this time. Ethan finds it hard to look back at him, so he sits on his desk chair and looks at his colourful keyboard instead. 

“Who would I tell anyway?” He mumbles, tapping at the pink spacebar. It sounds nice. 

Mark shrugs and sits on his bed. Ethan swirls in the chair, away from the guy’s hella nice pc, and looks up at the chandelier hanging from the ceiling. 

“Y-your house is really nice.” He says, desperate to change the subject of not having friends. 

“My parents are rich. Why are you suicidal?” 

“W-what?” Ethan stops rocking the chair back and forth, looking at Mark with wide eyes. Looks like they aren’t changing the subject. 

“You said in your letter that nobody would notice if you didn’t exist. You said that you wished anything you said mattered to anyone.” Mark has such an intense stare. Ethan’s already a shifty eyed motherfucker, so he finds it hard to sit still when he’s being stared at in just a normal situation. This? He feels like any wrong thing he says will set off a bomb or something. 

To be fair, he’s also just not used to eyes on him anyway. 

“I’m not suicidal. I just—I..I don’t have to tell you anything. It’s n..n-not your business.” He holds his breath, preparing for a slap or something. He’s not really the stand-up-for-himself type. Like, at all. 

“I don’t care what you say. I was going to finally end it and then you came around and now I gotta stick around, so it _is_ my business, whether you like it or not.” Mark doesn’t sound angry, but he says every word carefully. Meticulously. 

“What? I’ve always lived here, I-I didn’t come around—“ He stops when Mark stands from his bed and storms over to the dresser. He reaches into the top drawer and pulls a familiar folded paper out, handing it to him. Ethan unfolds it, reading the letter he wrote himself that first day. 

“I don’t know what made me take it out of the printer that day. I was passing by and it started printing and I just took it. I didn’t think anyone else felt the same way I did around here. It was like a sign. Like the universe telling me to help you.” 

“I don’t need f-fixed.” Ethan stands up, moving to leave. Mark steps in front of him, so Ethan takes his arm to move him away. 

Mark hisses in pain. 

Ethan halts immediately, the colour draining from his face. He looks down at his hand on Mark’s forearm. He’s barely squeezing. He doesn’t need to see under the man’s sleeve to know what it means. Their eyes meet. 

“I need fixed.” Mark whispers, his hair falling over his face. Ethan releases Mark’s arm, stomach flipping anxiously. 

“You need to tell your parents.” He murmurs in the same quiet tone. As if someone is listening in. As if it’s a secret. 

“They’ll send me away again. I can’t go back there, please don’t tell them. They don’t understand. It’s taboo where I come from. They don’t understand, Ethan.” 

“I don’t know how to help.” He replies, breathing picking up as he panics. God, he already has his own shit going on. How is he supposed to fix Mark too? He’s already trying to fix himself! 

“Nothing helps. It’s not something that can be fixed—“

“Then why did you say—“

“I just wanted you to listen for a minute. It’s been years, it’s not something that can be fixed. I just need..I need..” he trails off like he’s embarrassed to say it. Ethan fiddles with his jacket sleeves out of habit. 

“What do you need?” 

“God, I need a friend.” Mark spits it angrily, like it’s a swear. Ethan bounces on his toes a bit, feeling nervous standing close together like this. Feeling nervous standing alone in the same room as another person anyway. He’s always nervous. Whatever. 

“Me?”

“Yes, you. Obviously you. You’re just as fucked as I am, I have to keep you around too.” 

“I’m not asking—“

“I know, but clearly nobody else is doing it, so I am.” Mark sighs and steps away, flopping back onto the bed again. 

“How did you know which locker was mine?” 

“What?” Mark looks back to him with a raised eyebrow. 

“My locker. Cause you put the note in it that day. I-I mean, I’m not saying you followed me around, but how could you know which one is mine, I never even told you, it’s—“

“Chill, dude. We’ve been going to the same school forever, you know.” 

Ethan sits on the floor in front of Mark’s bookshelf, distracting himself by pulling a book out and thumbing through it. 

“I know. I just didn’t think you knew me.” 

“I don’t know you.” 

“I meant noticed.” 

Mark climbs off his bed and sits next to him, looking down at the book with him. 

“Well I didn’t think you’d care to show up tonight, so we’re both surprised here.” 

“W-why wouldn’t I show up?” Ethan asks, hyperaware of Mark’s knee touching his thigh. 

“Because you know the things I’ve done in the past. People from school cross the street so they don’t even walk in front of my house, so it’s surprising that you’d come anywhere near me. Most people think I’ll have an..episode..and hurt them or something.”

“I’m not scared of you.” Ethan says, looking up to meet his gaze. He keeps the eye contact for as long as he can stand it, before his eyes fall back to the book again, cheeks heating up. 

“You didn’t stutter.” Mark murmurs, reaching out and turning the page, showing Ethan a photo of a stingray. He honestly has no idea what book they’re looking at, too busy mentally dealing with sitting so closely together with someone who a week ago he barely knew whatsoever. 

“I-I stutter when I’m n-nervous.” Ethan replies, fumbling worse now that it’s been pointed out. He taps his fingers on the book anxiously. 

“If you aren’t scared of me, then why do I make you nervous?” 

“I have s-severe social anxiety.” Ethan says, exhaling shakily with his confession. He’s never said it out loud like that before. He’s heard it, sure. Dr. Odin has said it many times during their sessions. The doctor at the hospital said it when he was prescribed his medicine. 

“Obviously, but your hands didn’t shake like that in the library on the first day.” 

“W..why are you making fun of me?” Ethan asks, pulling his sleeve over his hand. He can’t do much about his casted arm, though. 

“I’m not. I’m just trying to figure you out. May I?” He holds his hands out. Ethan hands him the book, but that causes Mark to chuckle for some reason. He’s never heard the guy laugh before. It’s a nice sound. 

“No, your hands.” He clarifies. Ethan flushes and hesitantly turns so they’re facing each other, settling his hands in Mark’s, palms to the ceiling. 

Mark places his casted arm on their legs and takes his unbroken hand in both of his. He takes a hold of Ethan’s sleeve and pauses. 

“This okay?”

“Y-yeah.” Ethan mumbles, and watches Mark pull his sleeve up to his elbow. The man pauses, leaning in to read his peanut allergy bracelet with a hum. Then he puts his thumb on the spot where Ethan’s wrist meets his palm. 

He walks his fingers up the boy’s arm three spaces, then he presses his thumb to that spot in the centre of his wrist. 

“Take deep breaths.” Mark says, eyes on his arm in focus, his free hand laying under Ethan’s steadily shaking one. 

He applies firm pressure to that spot, massaging it for about 6 seconds every time Ethan exhales. 

The boy watches in amazement as his hand slows, then stops shaking completely. 

Mark takes his thumb away, but keeps Ethan’s hand in his, turning it over so their palms meet, really showing them both how steady it is. 

“How?” Ethan asks in a whisper, as if any higher tone will cause it to shake again. 

“Pressure point. Relieves anxiety and nausea. Read it in a book. Or did I see it in a documentary? I don’t know. Worked, though.” He smiles and finally pulls his hand away. Ethan holds his hand up between them, watching how steady it is. 

“Wish my medicine did that.” Ethan mumbles with a sigh. He puts his thumb at the spot where Mark’s just was, remembering it for later. His cast doesn’t limit his fingers, thankfully, so he could do it himself. 

“What’s your address?” 

“What?” 

“I want to take you somewhere tomorrow. You aren’t busy, right?” 

“I-I mean, I have an English paper due by Friday.” 

“Okay, not busy, great. Here, address.” 

Ethan takes the pen and paper, and pauses. He looks down past the paper, at the nice carpet under their feet. It’s expensive carpeting. The kind that you only find in this kind of large house in this kind of high end neighbourhood in this side of town. 

He writes an address, thinking about the fact that back home they’ve had trash bags duct taped over the garage window for months, having yet to replace just a simple window. Thinking about his father working two jobs and still barely having enough money to feed them both. Thinking about how he’s still using the same shitty twin size mattress he’s used since he was 7. 

Mark’s must be at least a queen, if not a king. 

“This is Athens Park, isn’t it?” Mark says when he gets the paper back, looking down at the address. 

“Yeah. Um, I spend more time there than home, really, it’ll be easier to find. It’s where I broke my arm, actually. On that oak tree at the edge where the park meets the woods.” He always rambles on too much. 

“Okay, it’s fine.” Mark sets the paper aside and tilts his head at him. 

They sit for a while longer, before the streetlights turn on and it’s time for Ethan to head home. 

Somehow, he leaves even more confused than when he arrived. 

-

Ethan sits up at the crunching of leaves. 

“No, stay there. Sorry I’m late.” Mark says, then promptly rag-dolls onto the ground next to him. Ethan lies back down, looking at the way the branches of the tree behind them stretches out over the sky. 

“Didn’t you want to go somewhere?” Ethan asks, turning his head to look at the man laying next to him. He finds that he’s already staring, instead of looking into the sky. He’s wearing eyeliner again, and his dark hair is sticking out in tufts under a dark green beanie that looks really nice on him. Ethan wonders if he’s ever considered getting gauges, as it would really complete the look. 

“Yeah but I haven’t done this in a long time. We can lay a while.” 

“You’re supposed to look at..at the sky.” Ethan says, looking up to the clouds himself. He sees Mark comply out of the corner of his eye, turning to face the sky as well. 

“Your hands are shaking again.” 

“It doesn’t b-bother me.” Ethan grumbles, taking fistfuls of grass at his sides to hide the shaking. 

“It makes your stutter worse.” Mark suddenly sits up and takes his hand, doing the point thing. Ethan tries to keep his eyes on the sky, but it’s hard with Mark just there in his field of view, the light from the sky making a sort of halo around his head. 

He’s strangely beautiful. 

“Is my stuttering, um, annoying?” Ethan asks, feeling his hands steady as Mark applies pressure. 

“Rather the opposite, but I doubt it gives you much confidence. It’s the plan. You stick around so I don’t blow my brains out, and I’ll help you be confident.” 

“Don’t say that.” Ethan says, sitting up as well, feeling sick to his stomach. Mark smiles and reaches for him, pulling leaves from his hair. 

“You’re right, sorry. I’m also keeping you around cause you’re nice to look at.” 

“Not what I meant.” Ethan says, but can’t help but giggle, blushing at the compliment. Mark grins and stands up, pulling him up as well. 

He leads them out of the park, to the lot. Mark’s car is incredibly nice. Some sleek red thing that Ethan couldn’t name if he tried. Right, rich. He’d almost forgotten. 

“Where are we going?” He asks once their both settled in their seats. Nice white leather seats, he should add. 

Mark just gives him a smile and starts the car. 

-

Somewhere beyond the town limits, Mark pulls off of the road into a dirt road that turns into a circular dirt park lot. There’s a sign for a hiking trail in front of them.

“Are you taking me here to murder me?” 

“Nah, you’ll like it, just trust me.” Mark steps out of the car and jogs around to open Ethan’s door for him. 

It starts out just fine. They follow the trail through the woods. It’s a nice cool day, and Ethan loves trees, so he’s fine with it. Then, Mark takes his arm and pulls him off the trail, through a barely noticeable separate path. One that’s clearly not part of the trail. 

They only walk for a few minutes, then they come face to face with a chain link fence. Mark climbs over in about two seconds flat, then looks expectantly at Ethan. 

“Wha—Mark! Are we breaking into some—“

“Just trust me.” Mark says again, holding a hand out to help him over the fence. 

Ethan climbs the fence himself with easy finesse. Mark narrows his eyes at him. 

“I can climb things. I’m a gymnast.” 

“Really? How flexible are you?” Mark asks, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Dirty.” Ethan complains with a giggle. Then they reach it. A half orchard of some sorts. Half of it is torn down, the chopped trunks still in a pile at the edge of the orchard waiting to be picked up. Where the trees were cleared, the ground is torn up, like they were levelling it to place foundation. 

The remaining half of the orchard is filled with huge apple trees, in perfect rows, apples filling all of them up. 

“What happened?” Ethan asks, following Mark as they approach the trees. 

“My family used to come here every weekend for a picnic. Pretty much the only thing we kept up with. Then the city bought the land and planned on tearing it out for a new superstore, but the deal didn’t pan out, so it’s just been like this since. Nobody wants to buy it cause it’s just barely too far out of town, and the city doesn’t care enough to do anything themselves. We only had to sneak in because they’ve blocked off the main entrance.” Mark explains. They stop under a tree, and Ethan is handed a large green apple. 

“That sucks. They should’ve given it back to the farmer who owned the orchard.” Ethan says, and bites into the apple. It’s fucking delicious, that’s for sure. 

“I’ve never had a better apple anywhere else, and I’m not even that big of an apple guy.” Mark reaches back up and grabs his own apple. 

They sit against the trucks of the trees, eating apples and enjoying the view. One thing Ethan’s learned about Mark, is that he’s a staring type. Like, more than a regular person. 

“What?” Ethan asks, feeling embarrassed under his stare. 

“You’re just hard to understand..do you like anyone at school? Like like?” Mark clarifies, like they’re girls in middle school. 

“Not really. Why?” 

“Well, I have to get your confidence up. It would help if I had someone for you to test run it on.” 

“T-that’s not..I’m not like that.” 

“Romantic?” 

“No, I just mean I don’t have, like..” he tosses his half eaten apple and runs a hand through his hair, frustrated at his own brain. He hates when he gets like this. It makes him feel fucking stupid to have a hard time forming just a basic sentence. He doesn’t have a speech impediment, it’s just anxiety screwing with him. Giving him another thing to be made fun of. 

“A crush?” Mark guesses. 

“Yeah, that one.” Ethan mumbles, looking out at the expansive field. There’s plenty of room for more trees. He wonders why the original owner didn’t plant different fruit with all of this space. 

“You’ve been going to school here for years and you haven’t wanted anyone?” Mark asks, raising an eyebrow. Ethan pulls blades of grass up, tearing them into little pieces. He has a hard time staying still. 

“N-not really.” 

Mark pouts, tapping his chin like he’s thinking. He then suddenly sits up, taking Ethan’s hands and pulling him up as well. 

“I got it! Do you have internet at home?”

“No.” 

“Okay, lets go to mine.” 

Then they’re leaving just as soon as they came. One thing Ethan’s learned about Mark is he moves a mile a minute, not taking even a few minutes to soak everything in. Maybe he’s distracting himself, or maybe he just gets bored easily, Ethan isn’t sure. 

-

“Mark, no, please.” Ethan can already feel the panic rising as he watches Mark type ‘black skinny jeans’ into the search bar. 

“C’mon, man. This is the first step! No more basic blue jeans and zip hoodies, alright? Your style is your first impression.” He clicks on images and looks through them like he’s getting inspiration. 

“I don’t..I-I don’t—“ Ethan makes a defeated noise and turns to leave, but Mark always fucking locks his door, so he struggles to open it with his shaking hands. 

“Ethan, stop. Tell me.” Mark pulls him away from the door and stands in front of it, looking confused. 

“This is the only pair of jeans I have.” Ethan says in a hushed tone, looking at the floor shamefully. 

“Wha..oh. Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t even consider..ugh, please don’t leave.” 

Ethan sighs and turns, crawling onto Mark’s bed and lying down, closing his eyes in defeat. He can hear Mark tapping away at his pc, so he just tries to relax. It’s hard to admit he’s poor. Especially to someone who is completely not. 

His eyes shoot open when he feels hands at his waist. 

“W-what are you doing?” Ethan asks, watching Mark circle his hips with what seems to be a sewing measurement tape. 

“Don’t worry about it.” Mark says, nodding at the measurement, then he loosens the tape to slide it up Ethan’s torso, measuring his waist next. The boy’s shirt rides up a bit. He lies stock still as Mark looms over him and takes his measurements. 

After measuring his chest and then the length from his hips to ankles, Mark walks back over to his pc. 

Ethan swallows nervously and follows, curiosity piqued. He can only peek around Mark’s chair in time to see a ‘thank you for your purchase’ screen. 

“What did you just spend $200 on?” Ethan asks. Mark abruptly closes the window before Ethan can see the website url. 

“You’ll see soon enough. Now, it’s hair time.” 

“H-hair time?” Ethan repeats. Mark hums in agreement and just leaves the room. 

Just as Ethan thinks about checking the browser history to see what was purchased, Mark returns with some sort of spray bottle and a comb. 

“Now, I’m not great at this, so give me a minute to figure it out.” He leads Ethan to the bed and has him sit. The boy does, all the while wondering how he went from being tripped in front of the library to this. Sat on Mark Fischbach’s bed while his hair is being combed. 

“What about Nancy?” 

“What?” Ethan asks in confusion. 

“You know, she’s that choir girl. Nice, not snobby.” 

“Um, not my type.” 

“Oh.. _oh_ . Um, well her brother Damien is also not snobby.” Mark doesn’t sound disgusted, but it wasn’t even the way Ethan meant. 

“No, girls are fine. Not that g-guys aren’t. I mean, I’m not picky, but that n-not the point. I’m not looking for..that. If you want to get me confidence, let’s just go for l-like, just talking to people. Not, not..”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry. It’s fine. You don’t have to date. I haven’t dated anyone since middle school.” 

“Why not?” 

“Cause I threw a chair at our 8th grade teacher and nobody talked to me anymore.” 

Ethan frowns at his lap. Mark pats at the back of his hair and moves around the bed to in front of him, eyes narrowed in focus as he puts whatever product he’s using into his fringe, running his hands through it and back instead of it laying over his forehead. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“For what?” Mark asks, eyes on his hair. He absentmindedly chews on his lip, seeming to be desperately trying to get Ethan’s hair to lay the way he wants it to. 

“For not talking to you.” 

“It’s alright, I wouldn’t expect you to, with the severe social anxiety and all.” Mark glances down at him to make sure he isn’t offended, smile playing at his lips. 

“At least I’m not depressed and suicidal.” Ethan says, heart racing with the comeback. It’s a new thing for him. 

“Tell that to your arm.” Mark says, grinning now. 

Ethan’s smile falls immediately. 

“What do you mean?” He asks. Mark looks back at him, pulling his hands from his hair when he realises he’s not laughing anymore. 

“Sorry, just a guess. I mean, people don’t just climb trees for fun at our age, do they?” 

Ethan picks at a loose thread on his shirt, avoiding eye contact. 

“I like trees.” 

“You’re also a gymnast.” 

“So?” 

“So how does a trained gymnast fail at climbing a tree?” 

Ethan’s jaw clenches. He stands up and pushes past him. His hands don’t shake this time when he reaches the door. 

“Ethan, wait!” 

He doesn’t stop. Not as he leaves the house. Not as he breaks into a run towards the bus stop. Not until he’s gone. 

-

A mere three days pass. On Wednesday, Ethan opens his locker and experiences a familiar deja vu as a folded paper flutters to the ground. He picks it up and sighs, opening it up. 

‘Dear Ethan Nestor,

Meet me at my car, spot 89. I’ll drive you home if you miss the bus. Please. 

-M’

Ethan presses the note into his pocket and takes his books from his locker, frowning the whole way. He’s already annoyed at himself, because he knows he’s going to go, and he feels like he might regret it, but he’s going to go anyway. 

Opening the passenger door, Ethan slides into the car and looks over to Mark. The man looks kinda rough. No eyeliner today, and his beanie and hoodie combo are making him look especially dark. 

“Just hear me out. What I said on Sunday, I wasn’t trying to like..accuse you of anything. I just want to get to know you. I want to know everything. Anything. I know we’ve only actually talked to each other in the past week but you’re, like, really great. You make me..feel. You said in your letter that you wished what you said mattered to anyone, and it does. It matters to me. I know I must sound desperate but I just..I haven’t enjoyed being around someone in a long time.” 

Ethan stares down at his lap, fingers fiddling with each other. How does one even respond to that? 

“Ugh, I’m not trying to guilt you into hanging out with me. I’ll figure out my shit even if you decide to ignore me forever. I’m just asking for another chance. I won’t make assumptions like that anymore, I swear. Just, here, think about it and let me know. Bus leaves in five minutes.” Mark sets a packaged up box in his lap. 

“What is this?” He asks. 

“The stuff I ordered. It’s for you, just see if you like it. Now go or you’ll be late.” 

So Ethan does. He steps out of Mark’s car and briskly walks back to the buses, hopping on his just before they take off. 

When he arrives home, he barely slides his rucksack off his shoulders before he’s sitting on the couch with the package. Shaking it, he doesn’t have much of a guess as to what it is. Tearing through the package, he finds it’s some sort of clothing box. 

Inside, a pair of black skinny jeans, a black collared shirt, a pair of high top sneakers, and a really nice navy blue coat, along with a $200 order receipt. 

Ethan takes a deep breath, and glances over at the mirror across the room. At his hair lying flat over his forehead like it always is. Hiding his face. At his very basic neutral coloured outfit. Plain and simple as to not attract attention. 

He rakes his fingers through his hair and pulls it back over his head like Mark was doing in his room the other day. Confidence. He needs confidence. 

-

‘Dear Ethan Nestor,

You look great. Walk with your chin up, and try a smile. 

-M’ 

Ethan rolls his eyes and tucks the note into his pocket, shutting his locker. He glances at the clock, and rushes away. He’d stayed in last period a bit longer to ask about an assignment, so he’s a bit late getting to the bus. Surely they haven’t left yet. Especially since it’s pouring rain outside. They wouldn’t take off early and leave—

“Nice outfit, faggot.” Ethan feels hands on his back and then he’s on the ground and absolutely covered in nasty parking lot puddle water. He looks up at the bully through the rain, and can’t do much but shield his head as the guy steps in for more. It’s one of Greg’s friends. David, maybe? 

It all happens so fast. Out of nowhere, there’s a new person who tackles David to the ground. Ethan sits up and pulls his knees to his chest, hyperventilating as he watches the two men fight. 

“You’re crazy!” David yells over the pouring rain, nose absolutely spilling blood over his face. 

“Yeah, I sure am! Touch him again and I’ll murder your whole fucking family!” It’s Mark, shouting at the top of his lungs as David rushes away. 

Then, Mark turns to Ethan, sliding in the wet gravel as he crouches down in front of him and wipes his wet hair away from his face. 

“Breathe, Ethan. Breathe with me, c’mon.” He cups his face so the boy has no choice but to look at him, trying to take deep breaths through the panic attack.

“In..in..i-in.” Ethan can’t get the word out, clutching his chest as he starts to feel dizzy from a lack of oxygen. 

Mark takes the boy’s bag from his shoulder and carelessly empties all of its contents all over the place. The pouring rain soaks everything pretty much immediately, but Mark finds the inhaler, and his hands are shaking when he holds it up to Ethan’s mouth, eyes wide and panicked. Thank god he’s a smart one. 

Ethan takes the medicine, and closes his eyes as he can finally breathe again. Mark seems to be trying to pack his soaked papers and shit back into his bag. 

“You’re bleeding.” Ethan says as soon as his attack is over, watching the rain wash Mark’s blood down his quickly bruising cheek. David must’ve been wearing a ring. 

“God, you almost pass out and that’s what you’re worried about. Fuck, all of your books. Come on, we gotta get out of this rain.” 

Ethan doesn’t remember how to stand. His legs feel like they’re locked in place. Mark seems to notice this. He sets the bag back down and just pulls him into a hug. 

Despite the rain coming down in buckets, Mark is somehow warm. Ethan clutches onto him as they hug, feeling all of his panic just kind of wash away. Wash away in the rain. 

“You’re going to get a cold.” Mark says in his ear, barely audible over the loud ass storm. 

So Ethan pulls away and gingerly stands up. Mark takes his bag for him and then his hand, and they jog through the parking lot hand in hand. 

Tossing Ethan’s bag in the backseat, Mark climbs into the drivers next to him and immediately turns on the car, cranking the heat. 

“I’m s-sorry.” Ethan’s stammers because of his teeth chattering. For once it’s not the anxiety that causes it. Mark looks down at the soaked seats and floorboards and rolls his eyes, pulling out of the lot and speeding through the rain, window wipers flying over the glass at top speed. 

“Doesn’t matter. God, I’ll fucking kill that guy. Fucking asshole. Does he push you around usually? Who else messes with you?” 

“I’m f-fine, Mark.” Ethan murmurs, looking at Mark’s hands and how tightly they’re holding the steering wheel. His knuckles are cut open from how hard he punched the guy. It was hard to see through the rain, but he might have messed David up a lot more than was noticeable. 

“Don’t say you’re fine. We both know it’s bullshit. You have enough shit already, we don’t need people jumping you as well. Who knows what would’ve happened if I wasn’t waiting for you. He was going to kick you while you were down—“ 

“P-please slow down.” Ethan clutches his seatbelt, eyes wide on the speedometer. 

Mark exhales shakily and just pulls over. They’re only a few blocks from his house, but the guy puts it in park and runs incredibly shaky hands through his wet hair. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. The anger, it’s hard to control.” 

Ethan gulps nervously and lifts up the centre console that separates them, unbuckling his seatbelt and sliding over. He takes Mark’s shaky hand and turns it palm up. Then he measures three spaces up his wrist and places his thumb at the pressure point. 

“Take deep breaths.” He orders. Mark reaches for Ethan’s coat lapels and does as he’s told, ears red with his anger. 

Slowly, he calms. His shaking dissipates. His jaw relaxes. The angry lines between his eyebrows smooth away. 

“Switch with me.” 

Mark does, sliding under as Ethan climbs above him, settling into each other’s seats. 

Mark keeps taking deep breaths as Ethan finishes the drive to the man’s house, pulling into his garage just a few minutes later. 

“We need to change before we get sick.” Mark mumbles once they’re parked. So they climb out, carrying their soaked bags through the seemingly empty house and up the stairs, Mark grabbing towels on the way. 

In his room, Mark pulls out a change of clothes for both of them, but he helps Ethan first. The boy flushes red as he changes out of his briefs, but Mark doesn’t seem to be looking, placing his wet clothing in the basket. Then, it’s Mark’s turn. The guy changes from the bottom up, which seems strange at first, until he peels his shirt off and Ethan understands. 

The boy gasps and pulls Mark over to the bed, sitting him down. 

“Do you have a first aid kit?” 

“Hall closet.” Mark replies, eyes on the floor. 

Ethan retrieves the kit, then settles back onto Mark’s bed on his knees, and opens up an alcohol wipe, cleaning up the cut on Mark’s cheek and the one on his stomach. David seemed to have gotten more punches in than he thought. 

“I’m sorry.” Mark whispers, hair falling in front of his eyes as he stares down at nothing. Ethan pulls a few bandages out of the kit. 

“Why?” 

“Now they’re going to know we’re..friends.” 

Ethan stops, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. 

“Is that why you don’t talk to me at school?” 

“Well, you know the shit they say about me. I doubt we can bring your popularity up now that they know you know me.” 

“Mark, I don’t care about that.” 

He finishes up tending to Mark’s wounds and notices he doesn’t reach for the sweater right away. Looking down between them, he sees Mark’s hand is covering his upper forearm. It’s the same spot Ethan grabbed that first time he came over. 

The boy hesitantly places his hand over Mark’s, and slowly lifts it away from his arm. 

There’s two cuts horizontally. One of them looks like it’s scabbing over, and the other looks like it was bleeding within the last two days. The worst part is that he’s not making new cuts. He’s cutting into the same two spots every time. Also, when he takes a closer look, he sees a vertical scar from who knows how long ago, just starting to fade away. A failed suicide attempt. 

“Oh, Mark.” Ethan exhales shakily, tears springing to his eyes. 

“Do you hate me?” Mark asks, voice raspy, eyes still somewhere between them. Ethan reaches up and moves Mark’s hair from his face. 

“Of course not. This is going to sting, okay?” At the man’s nod, Ethan picks up a new wipe, and gently wipes at the cuts. It’s a miracle he hasn’t gotten an infection with the way he’s been doing it, cutting over older cuts. 

“Why are you crying?” Mark asks. Ethan picks up a large rectangle bandage and covers the cuts, wrapping them up. 

“Because if I’d climbed just a few more branches in that tree, my fall would have been fatal, and I never would have written that stupid letter in the library. Then you never would have wanted to stick around to help me and you would have shot yourself that night. Because you don’t see your life as something valuable, and all of that makes me sad.” He sets down the gauze once he’s done and wipes his tears away. Mark just stares, looking surprised. 

“You’re shaking but you haven’t stuttered today even once.” 

“That’s because I’m upset, not anxious. Don’t remove those fucking bandages unless it’s to replace them with new ones.” He tries to be stern, but his voice is shaky, and he’s feeling a little too much all at once. 

“Okay, I won’t.” 

“Promise.”

“I promise..but I thought you said you slipped from the tree. You got pissed when I said it was intentional.” 

Ethan frowns and touches at his cast with his good hand, tracing the letters of Mark’s name, the permanent marker not having faded even a little in the rain. 

“I didn’t jump, okay? I didn’t climb it with the intention to fall. I just..I let go. I wasn’t wearing good shoes and I slipped reaching for another branch. I could have easily corrected it and continued climbing but I just..”

“You let go.” 

“I looked down at all the distance between me and the ground and I just let go. I don’t..I don’t think about killing myself usually or anything. It was just so impulsive. I don’t know why I did it.” 

“I’m glad you weren’t a few branches higher.”

“Me too. I’m glad you decided to grab my letter from the printer.” 

Mark smiles, and Ethan smiles right back. 

“Do you want to stay the night? Dad’s bringing home pizza.” 

“Oh, I gotta get home. My dad rarely takes the night off and we’re supposed to do dinner—“

“It’s fine, Ethan. I’ll drive you.” 

“No!” 

Mark stops getting up from the bed, looking back at him with wide eyes. 

“I-I mean..no, it’s fine. I can take the bus.”

“It’s pouring outside.” 

“Mark—“

“God, Ethan, I don’t care which side of town you live on, okay? I don’t care if you only own one pair of pants and if your dad has to work a million jobs to support you. Do you really think I’m so shallow?” 

Ethan fiddles with the bandage wrappers, shrugging. 

“I guess not.” 

“Good, so come on. I’m not gonna let you get in that rain again.” 

-

“I’m home, dad!” Ethan calls, setting his wet bag in the foyer and walking through the small house. It’s dark. Still. His smile falls as he steps through the kitchen and into the living room. He already knows the note is on the table before he’s even seen it. 

He sits at the couch and picks up the note. 

‘Ethan,

Our dinner night totally slipped my mind! Rain check, okay? Here’s some money for takeaway.

-dad’ 

He sets the note down and pulls his knees to his chest, looking around the quiet empty room. He can hear the rain hitting the roof. 

Instead of ordering food, he pulls the throw blanket from the back of the couch and lies down to just go to sleep. It’s fine. He’s used to this. He’s used to this abandoned feeling. 

He’s fine. It’s all fine. 

-

“So what if it’s us? What if it’s us, and only us, and what came before won’t matter...ooh, _count_ anymore.” Ethan nods, picking up his pencil and jotting down the changed lyric. 

“You sing, too?” 

Ethan startles, dropping his pencil, looking up to see its Mark, approaching from behind. 

“You scared me.” He complains, cheeks heating up as he quickly closes his notebook. 

“Sorry. Figured I’d find you here. Haven’t seen you since Wednesday.” 

“Well, that English paper was hell.” It’s true. He’d sort of forgotten it and had to work his ass off before turning it in yesterday. He feels a lot better now, though. Thank god for weekends. 

Mark plops down next to him and looks down at the closed notebook with clearly curious eyes. 

“Just pretend I’m not here.” The man says, and motions for him to continue. Ethan laughs awkwardly and sets now his ukulele on top of the notebook. 

“No, it just helps me think. I’m not..its not a thing or whatever.” 

Mark just stares at him silently, leaning back on his palms. He’s wearing a low cut crew neck so his collarbones are showing, and the sun hits him unfairly well when he turns his head like that. 

Ugh. 

“Fine. Just don’t..don’t laugh.” He picks the ukulele back up and opens his notebook, looking down at his song. He’s nervous in a way he hasn’t felt since that incident last year. The incident where he had to read his essay for the class and ended up stuttering terribly and having a panic attack instead. 

He takes a deep breath and starts to strum. 

“I don't need you to sell me on reasons to want you, I don't need you to search for the proof that I should, you don't have to convince me, you don't have to be scared you're not enough, cause what we've got going is good..” As he sings, he feels his anxiety wash away a bit. He closes his eyes and listens to the sound of his ukulele, and he falls into his zone. 

“I don't need more reminders of all that's been broken, I don't need you to fix what I'd rather forget, clear the slate and start over, try to quiet the noises in your head, we can't compete with all that..” he smiles at his own lyric, at the meaning behind it. 

“So what if it's us? What if it's us, and only us? and what came before won't count anymore or matter? can we try that?” He stops abruptly and opens his eyes, avoiding looking over at Mark, not wanting to see his reaction. 

“That’s all I got so far.” He says, tapping at the strings. Eventually, he gets curious when Mark just doesn’t say anything. He looks over. 

Mark’s looking at him really weird. He doesn’t look disgusted or angry. He just looks weirdly..soft? It’s definitely not a word he’d use to describe him usually, but it’s the best thing he can think of. Ethan notices he’s wearing his eyeliner really thin today, just a nice accent to his eyes. He probably notices because they’re getting closer together. Wait, what?

“M-Mark?” Ethan stammers, leaning back as Mark crawls up to him. Ethan’s back just ends up against the tree behind him. Mark places his hand on the tree next to his head, the other taking the ukulele from his hands and setting it down. 

Then they’re kissing. 

Ethan makes a surprised noise, eyes slipping closed as he just lets Mark lead the way. It’s his first kiss, admittedly. 

Mark pulls away and looks into his eyes. This close, Ethan can see he has a freckle or maybe a beauty mark near his eyebrow. He’s just unfairly pretty. 

When he leans back in, it’s to kiss up his cheek and pause at his ear. 

“You drive me fucking crazy.” He whispers, then he kisses him once more. Ethan opens his mouth when Mark deepens the kiss, heart absolutely pounding in his chest. 

Mark separates them and sits back in his original position with a smile. As if nothing even happened. Ethan’s frozen against the tree, eyes wide. 

“You never would have sang for me two weeks ago. You’re getting more confident.” 

“W-what?” 

“You know, the plan to get you more comfortable with putting yourself out there?”

“That’s not..I’m just more comfortable with _you_ because we’re getting to know each other. I’m still anxious around strangers—um, are we going to talk about that?”

“About what?” Mark asks, tilting his head at him like it’s a challenge. As if his lips aren’t pink from the kiss. 

“T-the, um, you just kissed me?” 

“Did it bother you?”

“No?”

“Alright, good talk! Wanna get ice cream?” 

Ethan blinks in confusion. What the fuck is happening? Mark stands up, wiping grass from his jeans, then pulls him up, clearly not waiting for him to answer the question. He then takes the ukulele, strumming it randomly as they walk to his car. 

Well, looks like they aren’t talking about it then. 

-

It’s different now. 

Mark’s just started doing it randomly without warning. He’ll lean over when Ethan is helping him study and just give him a peck, or he’ll kiss him goodnight before he heads home, or he’ll pull him into a storage closet at school and absolutely snog him against the wall. 

It’s incredible, of course, god it’s good, but Ethan’s fucking confused, and he can only chew so many mints in a day for that chance Mark will surprise him. 

Alas, he’s too nervous to ask about it, so he just chills out and enjoys it rather than wondering. 

“Do you like scary movies?” Mark just appears next to him. Ethan startles, dropping his book. Mark catches it easily, sliding it into his locker as if he’s not just casually cool as hell. 

“Yeah, why?” 

“Wanna go see one tonight? It’s supposed to be really good.” He puts one arm up on the lockers, a strand of his dark hair falling over his forehead. Ugh, he’s almost too hot sometimes. It makes Ethan’s stomach flutter too much. 

“I mean, there’s the history test on—“ something hits him in the head. A paper ball, it feels like. Laughter sounds from behind him. He turns to see it’s Greg and his crew, spitting paper through straws like middle schoolers. 

Mark’s face goes dark. He kicks off of the locker and steps over to the guys. The students walking by part like the Red Sea as he crosses the aisle. 

“Do we have a problem?” He asks, voice gravely. Scary. 

“Ooo, looks like N-N-N-Nestor’s got a guard dog! You gonna throw a desk at us?” 

“I’ve outgrown desks, Greg. Maybe this time I’ll just put a bullet through your head.” 

Greg’s grin falls. He steps up to Mark, getting in his face. He’s shorter, and clearly not as built, but there’s also five of them and only one of Mark. 

“Is that a threat?” 

“Yes. Mess with him again and I’ll make sure to follow through.” 

Ethan chews on his lip anxiously and steps up behind him, taking his wrist. 

“It’s n-not worth it, c-come on.” He says to the man. 

“You two dating or something?” 

“Yeah, you got a problem with that?” Mark asks. Ethan looks at him in surprise. It’s news to everyone here, apparently. There’s a crowd forming. Ethan looks around at the people staring and starts to feel shaky. 

“M-Mark, please, please.” Ethan tugs on his sleeve. Finally Mark looks at him, seeing his shaky hands and his quickened breathing. 

“We’ll settle this later.” Mark says to Greg with a snarl, then he takes Ethan’s hand, leading him away from the crowd. 

Once they’re in his car, Mark presses his forehead to the steering wheel. His knuckles are white they’re gripping it so tightly. Ethan pulls his knees to his chest and tries to take deep breaths. There were so many eyes on them. So many. 

“C’mere.” Mark mutters, picking up the centre console so Ethan can slide over. He does, and hugs Mark’s waist, nose to his neck as he breathes slowly. Throughly. 

“You can’t get in trouble again. If you get suspended you won’t be able to graduate.” Ethan holds him tightly, feeling Mark’s heart pound under his hand. 

“I know. It’s just hard to control..the anger. Every time he even looks at you funny I just want to fucking kill him.” 

“It’s scary. Y-you’re scary when you get like that.” Ethan admits in a whisper. Pretty much immediately, he feels Mark’s tense muscles relax under him. He shrugs his shoulder so Ethan will lift away. The boy does, looking at him to find worried eyes and a deep frown. 

“Ethan, I would never—I could never hurt you. I can’t even fathom the thought of it. God, I promise on everything—“

“No, I know. I’m not scared you’ll hurt me, I’m just scared you’ll hurt you. I mean, you could end up in the h-hospital. Or jail.” He blinks, eyes getting glossy even just thinking about it. Mark pulls him back in and pets at the back of his hair. 

“I’m sorry, baby. I’m trying. I’m really trying to get better. I promise I won’t get in trouble again. I promise.” 

Ethan closes his eyes, relishing in the hug. The pet name is unexpected, but so is the promise. 

It’s a crazy day. 

-

“That ending was unexpected. I love when it doesn’t end all happy, it’s so much more interesting.” Mark’s all smiley as he drives him home. Ethan watches him with his own smile, happy to see him happy. To be honest, the movie was terrifying as hell, but he enjoyed it too. It was really nice to just hang out. It’s been really nice to just hang out. To have a friend. 

Friend? Or was this a date? 

Pulling up to Ethan’s house, Mark gets out of the car. He doesn’t usually get out. He walks him up to the door. It feels like a date. This is what happens at the end of a date, right? 

“Do you..w-want to come in?” Ethan asks, unsure what to say when Mark doesn’t speak up. 

“I was hoping you’d ask.” He says. Ethan turns and unlocks the door. Stepping inside, he turns on the lights and slips off his shoes. Mark copies, then walks through the tiny living room in his socks. He wore a nice sweater for the movie. It looks really good on him. 

Ethan gives him the shortest tour of all time, avoiding the garage where all of the junk and mom’s things are. He doesn’t like to go in there, himself. 

“And here’s my room. Um..I wasn’t expecting you to come in, obviously.” He bounces on his toes, looking at his papers and laundry and random shit just thrown around. He’s not a slob, but he’s definitely not a neat person. 

Mark walks over and sits on the edge of his small bed and just watches him. Ethan shifts on his feet, unsure how to read the room. 

“Was this a date?” He blurts, then flushes, looking to his toes. 

“Duh, I wore my nicest sweater.” Mark says. Ethan looks back to him to make sure he’s not being sarcastic. He’s not. If anything he looks fond. 

“You said we were dating. When Greg asked.” 

“So?”

“So...I mean, w-was that just for the argument, or?” He trails off, unsure how to ask the right way, or even unsure of what exactly he’s asking. 

“Ethan, I’ve been dating you for two weeks, did you expect me to keep it a secret? Cause I’m not that guy. I’m not going to hide this. I’m proud—“

“Woah woah woah, stop. When did you ask me to date you?” 

Mark’s mouth twists like he’s thinking. He shrugs. 

“Uh, that day you sang for me. My kissing you was the question, obviously. You said it didn’t bother you.”

Ethan runs a hand through his hair, pacing a bit. 

“Mark, you can’t just date people without them knowing!”

“Why not?”

“Wha-?? B-because, because..because what if I don’t want to date you?” 

Mark raises an eyebrow and leans back, the cocky fuck. 

“You don’t want to date me?” 

“O-of course I do, but—!” 

“Fine, fine, c’mere.” Mark sighs, waving him over. Ethan pouts and ultimately steps up. Mark pulls him so he’s straddling the man’s lap, smirking. 

“Ethan..will you be my boyfriend?” He asks, eyes staring into his soul. Ethan blushes, fiddling with the man’s sweater collar. 

“Yes.” 

“Alright, can I kiss you now?” 

“Y-yes.” 

So he does. 

-

‘Dear Ethan Nestor,

I don’t think I need my pills anymore. I’ve been getting better. I don’t have much to say today. I think I’m falling in love with Mark. 

-Me’ 

He hits print and logs off. While he’s standing next to the printer, he hears the library door open but doesn’t pay any mind to it. Most of the students are gone by now, as the buses left ten minutes ago. He has his weekly appointment with Dr. Odin today, so he has to get his letter printed. 

When he’s done printing, he takes the paper and turns to leave, but runs right into someone. 

They crash and both of them fall to the floor. Ethan looks over to apologise, and sees a bruise in the shape of a hand before he has a chance to pull his shirt down. 

“Y—“

“You didn’t see anything. Say a word and I’ll kill you.” Greg stands up and points at him while he’s down, face angry but more panicky than anything. 

“I-I wasn’t going to tell. Who—“ he wants to ask who gave him that bruise, but then suddenly Mark’s appeared out of nowhere, and he’s got Greg by the shoulders, shoving him against the wall. 

“You touch my boy again? Remember what happened to David?” Mark asks. Ethan scrambles to his feet and pulls Mark away from him. 

“He didn’t push me, Mark! Don’t do anything!” 

“You were on the floor.” Mark seethes, not looking away from Greg. 

“We ran into each other, it was just a m-misunderstanding. You promised.” He says. Finally, Mark releases Greg, who straightens up his shirt with a cringe. 

“You have some fucking anger issues.” Greg says, picking up his bag from the floor. 

Mark doesn’t say anything, just watching the guy menacingly as he walks away. As soon as they’re alone, he turns back to Ethan and cups his cheek. 

“Did he hurt you? Was it on purpose?”

“No. It was legitimately an accident. I..I want you, no, I need you to start to get the full story before you come in ready to beat everyone up.”

Mark smiles, nodding coyly. He takes Ethan’s bag and his hand as they walk out of the school together. 

“I just get so angry sometimes. I can’t even hear my own thoughts, I just get this blinding rage.” 

As they walk out of the school, Mark releases his hand. Ethan looks at him puzzlingly, but the man doesn’t say anything until they’re in his car. 

“My parents don’t know about us.” He says, looking out of the window and decidedly not at him. 

“Neither does my dad.” 

“Well..they aren’t the most, um, open-minded of folks. I don’t want them to know. Not until, like, I move out.” 

“Have they said anything about it?” Ethan asks, setting his chin on his hand over the centre console. Mark just stares in the opposite direction. 

“I suppose not..but if depression is taboo I hardly believe they’d be accepting of a gay relationship.” He smiles, but it’s sad. Ethan takes his hand. 

“So we hide it?” 

“We hide it.”

-

Hiding it is more fun than it sounds. They continue writing each other letters, sticking it into the other’s locker. When they spend time at Mark’s house, they pretend like nothing is happening around his family, then they goof around upstairs behind his locked door, giggling as they try to keep quiet. It would probably make more sense to just hang out at Ethan’s, since he almost always has an empty house, but he’s still embarrassed to have him over. Doesn’t like the idea of them trying to lay together on his tiny twin mattress. 

And when they’re apart, it’s emails back and forth, sometimes a Skype. There’s some nights they can’t spend together just because they have other things to do. 

Like tonight, where Ethan is trying and failing to study for his test that he’s taking within the next day. 

He can’t seem to focus, finding it hard to get a full paragraph read. The phone ringing is a nice distraction. He reaches over to his bedside table, picking it up. 

“Nestor household.” He answers with. 

“Ethan? It’s Tom. Mark’s having a..episode today. He’s locked himself in his room and won’t come out. Mom and dad are about to kick the door in. He won’t listen to any of us—“

“Give me five minutes.” Ethan hangs up the phone and rushes out of his room. He chews on his lip nervously as he realises a bus would be too slow. 

He takes his dad’s motorcycle keys from the bowl and opens the garage. 

He doesn’t bother knocking, barging into the Fischbach home and taking the stairs two at a time. The three of them are standing in the hallway outside of Mark’s room. They seem to be trying different keys to see if one will open the room up. Ethan steps around all of them and up to the door, not bothering to greet anyone despite his parent’s surprised looks. 

“Mark, it’s me. Remember your promise? That night I was here, you promised you wouldn’t do it again.” He hears a squeak, sounding almost like him getting up from the bed. 

“C’mon, let me in. It can be just us okay? Nobody else will come inside.” Ethan turns around to give the rest of Mark’s family a look. They look to each other, seeming to understand. 

The door opens just a crack. Ethan steps inside and closes it again. Behind the door, Mark stands shirtless, shaking. His bandages are off, and he’s holding a razor. 

Ethan steps towards him, but Mark steps away, gasping like he’s having trouble breathing. 

“Hey, it’s me. You trust me, right?” Ethan asks, hands out towards him like he’s calming a horse. Mark nods slowly, eyes not looking exactly at him, as if he’s blind or something. It’s fucking terrifying. 

He approaches him again. This time, Mark doesn’t move away. Ethan places his hand, palm up, under Mark’s fist that’s clutching the razor. 

“Can I have it, please?” 

He waits patiently, and eventually the man releases the razor, letting it drop to Ethan’s hand. The boy immediately takes it to the joining toilets and flushes the thing. 

When he returns, Mark is just standing there shaking terribly. His room is a wreck, drawers emptied and things thrown everywhere. Ethan takes the guy’s arm and sees that he didn’t cut. 

“That’s good. You did good, Mark.” Ethan pulls him into a hug. 

Mark sort of just falls into him, folding his arms between them, neck bending to rest his temple on his shoulder. He makes himself small, and he starts to sob. 

Ethan pets the back of his hair, holding him tightly, and tries to hold back his own tears. God, he could be gone so quickly. One slice too deep and Ethan could have been too late. 

“I’m s-sorry, I’m sorry—“ Mark’s voice is muffled and shaky. Ethan just holds him tighter. 

“It’s okay. I’m going to get you help. You’re going to get better. Shhh.” 

The door opens. He looks over to see it’s Mark’s family peeking in. Ethan steps away from the hug and helps Mark over to his bed, sitting him down with a pillow to hold. 

“Did he hurt you?” Sunok asks. 

Ethan gawks in surprise, standing in front of Mark so they can’t really see him. 

“Seriously? You aren’t worried about his own health?”

“Well, we know he has anger issues—“ Cliff starts. 

“He’s depressed! Can’t you see that?! He’s hurt himself and you haven’t even noticed! He doesn’t need discipline. He doesn’t need you to walk around him like egg shells. He needs help! He tried to take his own life on the first day of school and you fucking forced him to socialise with me, someone he barely knew, instead of bringing him to a doctor?!” 

“He’s going through a rough patch—“

“No, it’s not just a rough patch. This is serious. You’re losing him and if you bother to get over your own ideas of how mental health works then maybe he’ll live to graduate!” Ethan’s never felt so angry before. He’s never stood up like this. To confrontation. Especially to people who are older than him. 

The family looks to each other, looking uncomfortable or maybe just confused. Either way, Ethan grits his teeth and storms over to Mark’s closet, yanking out a sweater. 

“What are you doing?” Tom asks. 

“I’m taking him myself. Go back to your perfect rich ideals and leave us be. Go!” He shouts. 

Surprisingly, but also not, they actually fucking leave the room. Ethan can’t help it now. He wipes his own tears as he fits the sweater over Mark’s head. The boy is complacent and looking into thin air. It’s like he’s sleep walking almost. 

Ethan takes Mark’s hand, the man stands up and follows him, his hand shaking in his. 

Nobody stops him as he walks through the house. It’s devastating. When Mark had said it was ‘taboo’, he hadn’t realised to what extent. He didn’t think they’d literally ignore what’s plainly in front of them. He didn’t think a parent could look at a kid who’s clearly crying for help, and turn the opposite direction. It’s unfathomable. 

He buckles Mark in and takes his nice ass car right out of the driveway, making a mental note to come back for his dad’s bike. 

It’s raining, just another addition to this day. Ethan takes deep breaths, trying to keep his tears at bay so he can see the road in front of him. 

“You didn’t stutter.” 

“What?” Ethan looks over in surprise. Mark’s just staring blankly out of the window, watching the rain droplets merge and fight as they fly down the glass. 

“You stood up for me and you didn’t even stutter once.”

Ethan chews his lip, realising that Mark is right. He sure didn’t. When they get to his house, he pulls up the centre console and slides up next to him. The man looks to him, blinking slowly as if he’s dazed. 

“I wanted to do it. I really wanted to, but I thought of how you’d look at me and I couldn’t.”

“Oh, Mark.” Ethan sighs, and presses a kiss to his shoulder. Mark turns towards him, eyes so sad as he leans in for a kiss. 

Ethan’s heart still starts to race. His hands begin to sweat. They’ve kissed many times by now but every one is just like the first. He feels so much. Too much. It’s not like his regular too much. Not like when he feels afraid. Spiralling out of control, mind jumbled together and unable to get a single word out. 

No, this is a different too much. Too many butterflies in his stomach. Too many heartbeats per minute. Too many fleeting thoughts, wondering what it would feel like to touch him everywhere. Anywhere he can reach. 

“Please hold on. D-don’t leave me.” Ethan says against his lips. Mark pulls away with furrowed eyebrows, fingers gently tracing over his jaw. 

“I’m trying my best, I promise. I’m trying.” 

“I don’t w-want to be in a world without you in it.” Ethan takes Mark’s hand, squeezing tightly. Trying to convey exactly how much he’s feeling right now. 

Mark’s lips slowly spread into a smile. He pulls him out of the car and into the rain. Ethan tries to cover his head with a confused frown, but Mark takes his hands and starts to dance, face up to the large droplets. 

“What are we doing?!” Ethan yells over the noise. 

“Living in the moment!” Mark replies, then promptly lies down in the muddy grass, eyes closed. Ethan can’t help but laugh at his silliness. How the guy’s mood can change so quickly, he has no clue. 

So he lies with him. They hold hands in the puddle between them. They’ll probably both get sick because of this, but it’s pretty nice to feel the rain on their faces. Especially after such an emotionally draining day. 

It’s nice. 

-

“We’re late, Ethan! Wake up!” 

Ethan shoots up from his slumber, blinking through the morning daze to see Mark hopping on one foot as he pulls his pants on. 

“W-what?” He wakes up rather quickly, seeing Mark’s bare chest and legs just out in the open as he gets dressed. 

“First bell is in 20, c’mon!” Mark’s got what looks like the spare toothbrush from the sink sticking from his mouth. 

It’s a pretty good sight to wake up to. 

Climbing from the bed, Ethan can’t help but flush embarrassingly as he dresses himself. It was pitch black last night when they’d undressed for bed. Now it’s bright and early. And Mark is looking at him. 

“You ever think about tattoos?” He asks randomly, then steps into the bathroom to spit. Ethan pauses with one arm through his shirt sleeve, eyes wide. 

“Um, what?”

“It’d be hot, is all. Hey, move while you talk! I have a test first period.” Mark says as he steps back into the room. He approaches him and pulls his shirt the rest of the way down, then presses a quick goodmorning kiss to his temple. 

“I could get used to waking up next to you.” He murmurs while he’s there, then pulls away with a knowing smirk, walking out of the room with his bag in hand. 

Ethan watches him go, heart racing. 

It’s as if yesterday never happened. Mark’s waiting for him in his car, bopping his head to a song on the radio and munching on the toast he made them in the handful of minutes it took Ethan to get ready. 

“You okay?” He asks, watching the man pull out of the driveway. It’s pretty out, with that nice post-rain dew coating the grass and leaves. The light fogs adds quite a nice touch to the orange trees. Nothing beats an autumn morning, really. 

“Yeah, you okay? If Greg gives you trouble we can skip after first.” Mark drives with one hand, holding his with the other over the console. Ethan touches at the guy’s knuckles, bottom lip between his teeth anxiously. 

“I mean..are you _really_ okay? You weren’t really all there yesterday. It was scary, to be honest. I wasn’t sure you’d come back.” 

“It’s alright. That just happens every few months. Just a really dark day.” 

“Do you know it’s a dark day when you wake up?”

“Yeah.”

“And you didn’t call me?” 

Mark pulls into the park, eyebrows furrowing. 

“I didn’t wanna worry you.” He says, shutting off the engine and pocketing his keys. 

“Call me. Always call me. This is definitely not the thing to hide and try to deal with on your own. You know what? Call even if it’s just a slightly bad day. I want to be with you, even if I can’t help.” 

“You always brighten my day,” Mark says, smile playing on his lips, clearly trying to brighten the mood. Ethan just gives him a sad look, “okay, I swear I’ll call. C’mon, we can’t be late.”

They head into the school, and Ethan clings onto his hand, not ever wanting to let go. Despite the swears and the promises, he can’t help but have a weird gut feeling of impeding doom. As if something bad is going to happen. 

He’s an anxious fuck, sure, but this is different. He feels like Mark is slipping through his fingers, and he has no clue how to pull him back in. 

-

“Are you dating Mark Fischbach?” 

Ethan glances up from his essay in progress, seeing its Julie, a girl from the cheerleading squad. 

“U-um..I-I—“

“I know you are. Everyone knows. Look, you need to stay away from him. When we were kids he threw a desk at our teacher.” She gives him wide eyes, like she’s talking about murder or something. 

“Wha—I know?”Ethan replies in confusion. 

“Oh well did he tell you that he’s on drugs? And that he planned a school shooting but his parents found his guns first? Or that when he dated the new girl back in ninth grade, she left for an insane asylum?” 

Ethan blinks, shocked to the core. Is this girl actually serious?

“J-Julie, I’m not new. We’ve been in the s-same English classes since second grade.” 

Julie tilts her head, eyes flitting over him like she’s trying to remember him. It’s kind of sad. They even were partnered for an in-school project once. Ethan just sorts of wants to shrink into a hole and never return sometimes. 

“And..and none of that’s true. The drugs, or the gun thing, and that new girl Bethany moved away so quickly because her dad is military.” 

Julie rolls her eyes. 

“Believe what you want, dude. He’s a psychopath. You’re going to come home one day and find he’s murdered someone.” 

She turns back towards the front. Ethan looks down at his half written essay, the anger boiling through him. Is this the shit people are saying about him? Are these rumours why nobody talks to him? 

“Where are you going?” 

Ethan ignores his teachers words and leaves the classroom, still stuffing his papers in his rucksack as he makes his way through the school. 

He just has to get out. He doesn’t care if he gets in trouble anymore. He just wants to get away. 

The cool breeze drifts over the orange and yellow leaves, and they dance through the park like a ballet show. 

Ethan drops his bag to the grass and takes a deep breath, and reaches for the first branch. 

“What are you doing?” 

He startles, footing slipping a bit. He catches himself easily before his brain even catches up. Gymnast reflexes. He settles onto the first branch and looks down to see it’s Greg of all people, wearing one of their school hoodies. 

“Uh..climbing.” Ethan replies, looking down at his palm that’s sticking out from his cast, checking for scraps from the grip. 

“Shouldn’t you be in school?”

“Shouldn’t you?”

Greg laughs dryly and kicks at dead leaves, hands in his pockets awkwardly. He’s being weird. He hasn’t messed with Ethan in a week or two, but he also hasn’t been in school in a few days. 

“I’m sorry.”

“W-what?”

“For everything. The shit I’ve said to you. And the pushing you around. And letting David take it so far. It wasn’t until you saw my..my bruise..that I realised the way my dad makes me feel is the way I’ve made you feel all this time.” 

“Greg—“

“You don’t need to worry about any of it anymore. I told David to stop. And the other guys. I’m going to switch schools.”

“You don’t have to switch schools. Jesus, you never actually physically hurt me, you know.” Ethan swings down from the tree to stand at the same level. 

“I just, I never stopped to think about how my actions can affect someone. How I was your version of my dad. I swore I’d never be like him..” Greg tries to take a breath, and he abruptly starts to cry. 

Ethan clutches onto the hem of his shirt anxiously, unsure how to react. Does he hug the guy? Pat his shoulder? The thought of those options make him want to just leave. Though he feels bad for Greg, he’s still Ethan’s bully. For the longest time now. 

“Do you want to know how it started? I was in my..in my room, and he barged in without knocking. I was looking at a magazine. A male nude magazine.” 

Ethan’s eyebrows furrow and he instinctively backs up when Greg steps towards him. The guy just wipes at his face, expression devastated. 

“W-why are you telling me this?” 

“Because I didn’t target you just at a random.” Ethan stands his ground this time when Greg steps closer. He expects a punch, unsure if this is all an extensive prank or not. 

“Why did you target me then?” Ethan asks, almost afraid of the answer. 

Greg starts to lean in. 

“If only your fucking psychotic boyfriend wasn’t—“ 

Speak of the devil. 

Greg disappears from in front of him as he’s violently shoved away. The guy stumbles but finds his footing. Mark’s like a rhino that’s charged up and ready to crash through anything. 

“He didn’t touch me, Mark!” Ethan says, but his voice falls onto deafened ears. Mark swings, but Greg pulls back just barely enough. 

Ethan, desperate to stop the fight, pulls Mark away. It’s at a bad time, though, because then Greg’s punch lands right onto Ethan’s cheek. 

Despite the bullying, Ethan’s never been seriously physically hurt by another person. It’s his first real punch, and yet it’s like he feels nothing, adrenaline pumping through his veins. 

“You’re fucking dead!” Mark shouts, and then he’s grabbing onto Greg’s shirt, the boy easily manhandled due to the fact that he’s staring at Ethan in shock instead of protecting himself. 

“If you touch him we’re over!” Ethan says loudly as he sits up, desperate to stop the fight. 

Mark stops and finally looks to him, eyebrows knitted together. His fist is stretched back to punch, the other holding Greg up by his shirt. 

“Ethan—“

“I’m serious, Mark. Let him go.” Ethan says, nails digging into his own palms, breathing picking up as his anxiety skyrockets. Mark frowns angrily and shoves Greg away, then steps up to Ethan, not bothering to watch Greg leave the scene. 

“Breathe with me.” Mark says, hands cupping his cheeks. Ethan reaches up to push him away, but just ends up clutching onto him as he tries to breathe. 

“D-don’t touch me.” He gasps, peeking around Mark to see Greg walking away, looking back at them every few seconds. 

“Be mad at me later. Do you need your inhaler?” Mark’s eyebrows knit together worriedly, already teaching for his bag. 

Ethan shakes his head and leans forward, putting off his anger so he can calm down. They breathe together. A cold breeze blows over them. Ethan shivers and lets Mark hold him even after he’s calmed down. It’s hard to resist. He smells really nice and to be fair, he did do as Ethan asked. 

“You need to stop reacting without all of the information.” 

Mark pulls back just enough to meet his eyes, tucking his hair behind his ear with a small smile. 

“I know. I’m trying to work on it. I see him and I know what he’s done in the past and it’s hard to think anything but the worst.” 

Ethan starts to walk towards the park, assuming Mark’s car is here. The man takes his hand as they walk. He looks tired, his eyes red rimmed, and he’s just smiling—

Ethan halts. 

“Are you high?” 

Mark chews on the inside of his lip and looks down at their joined hands. His silence is plenty enough answer. 

“Really? And I stood up for you today when Julie said you were a druggie—“

“Wait what?”

“And you’re over here skipping school to get high! I thought you w-were better than this.” 

Mark follows him as he storms away angrily. 

“Ethan, please, I’m not doing it for fun. It helps to calm me down. God, stop running every time I do something you hate.” He yanks him back by his arm right into a kiss like some romantic movie scene. 

Ethan’s weak. He melts into the kiss. He doesn’t know how he didn’t notice before. Mark’s bloodshot eyes and his nice smell. Where does he even get pot in this shitty little town?

“Come over.” The man says when he pulls away, eyes dilated. 

“I have homework.” 

“Okay?” 

Ethan frowns, wanting to be angry but not having the words to express why he is. So he takes Mark’s keys, refusing to let him drive when he’s clearly high as a kite. At least it’s something he can do. 

-

They haven’t talked much since they arrived, but five minutes ago Mark pulled a joint from an altoids tin and is currently taking a drag from it. He sits on his big ass beanbag that’s large enough for four people. 

Ethan watches from the bed, pen suspended above his paper. His stomach turns but not in a bad way as he watches the smoke curl above Mark’s face. It really completes his bad boy persona. 

Ethan’s not the best at hiding his emotions. 

“You want?” Mark asks, holding the joint out between two of his fingers towards him. 

“N...I’ve never done it.” Ethan says, heart skipping nervously at the thought of smoking. It can’t be that bad if it’s legal in a few states, right? 

“Don’t let me peer pressure you, but you can try if you’d like to.” Mark smokes a bit more. 

After failing to continue his assignment, Ethan slips off of the bed and steps over. He feels confident as he climbs right into Mark’s lap, knees straddling him, digging into the beanbag, looking at him coyly under his eyelashes. Then he falters as Mark holds the drug for him to take. 

“What if I get a drug test? I w-wanted to try for a job soon. At that ice cream p-place, maybe, or—“

“Shh. There’s a different way.” Mark mumbles, eyes dark as he takes a deep drag. Then, he cups Ethan’s cheek with his free hand and presses their lips together. He exhales the smoke into Ethan’s mouth. 

The boy inhales. It’s not as strong as he expected, but it might just be because of the way they’re doing it. They just go right into kissing, the smoke sifting out between their lips. 

It’s unbelievably hot. 

There’s a sizzle as Mark puts out the joint and drops the tin to the floor, pulling Ethan closer by his hips. 

There’s a knock at the door that would usually cause Ethan to jump away and blush his brains out, but he just starts to kiss down Mark’s neck as he guy leans his head back. 

“Yeah?” He calls, eyes lidded heavily as they watch him go further and further down. 

“Are you smoking?!” Cliff calls, trying the door but it’s locked. 

“I’m not peer pressuring him, don’t worry!” Mark’s voice cracks on the last word when Ethan slithers down, lips brushing over the hem of his joggers. 

“Alright. As long as your being responsible!” Cliff calls back. 

“Of course!” Mark says, then he abruptly stands, picking Ethan up and pressing him down onto the bed. The boy giggles gleefully as he’s manhandled. 

“You fucking exhibitionist.” Mark says as their lips meet once more. Ethan giggles again and pulls at his shirt, yanking it off. 

He feels good. He feels ready and prepared, until suddenly his smile falls when Mark touches at his briefs to remove them. His breath catches, anxiety rising rapidly. Mark notices even as he’s high as hell. 

“You aren’t ready. It’s okay, it’s okay—“

“No, please, I’m just..self conscious.” Ethan chews on his lip, turned on but extremely nervous. He’s never done anything. Not with any gender. Not with anyone. Mark has been his first for everything thus far. 

The man smiles, then leans down to kiss his cheek. 

“You’re beautiful.”

“Mark,” Ethan whines, but can’t help but smile as he’s kissed, “n-no.”

“You are. So beautiful. And I’m not just saying this cause I’m high. You’re so..you drive me insane.” His hands wander wildly, then his fingers skirt up Ethan’s inner thigh, and his thumb starts to gently pet at his hard on. 

The boy bites his lip, cheeks pinking. Mark watches his reaction very closely, and his thumb turns into a few fingers, then his whole hand, until he’s full on palming Ethan over his briefs. 

“F-fuck. Fuck me.” The boy gasps, nails digging into Mark’s shoulders as he’s pleasured. The man makes a noise and starts to touch himself with the same rhythm, eyes fluttering as he tries to keep watching. 

They’re teenagers, so they don’t last long. Mark buries his face into the space next to Ethan’s head as he comes, and he doesn’t falter his hand movements to bring Ethan right along with him. 

Afterwards, Mark spoons him from behind, lips pressing sweet kisses on the back of his head. 

“S’good.” He says, voice sounding sleepy. Ethan rubs circles over the tops of his hands, smiling in the afterglow. It’s really nice. 

“Yeah. Wanna nap?” 

“Mmhm..I love you.” Mark breathes. 

Ethan tenses full bodily, eyes shooting open. He sits stock still for a few minutes, waiting for Mark to say anything more, but he doesn’t. He just breathes evenly behind him. 

“W-what?” Ethan whispers back finally. No response. He turns in Mark’s arms and finds he’s fallen right asleep. 

Ethan’s heart slams in his chest. He traces the shape of his boyfriend’s face and wonders if it was just sleep talk or truth. 

He doesn’t sleep for a long time, the question far too loud in his head. 

-

The ride to school is quiet, but not in an awkward way. Mark holds his hand over the centre console and bops his head to the music on the radio. Ethan’s leg bounces uncontrollably, nervous that at any point Mark will bring it up. Or is he waiting for him to bring it up? What is happening?

“Do you have a test today?” Mark asks as he pulls into the school park, hand releasing his to settle onto his bouncing leg instead. Ethan forces his leg to stop and looks over to him, cheeks pinking. 

“N-no.”

“So why’re you nervous? Do you want to skip?” Mark parks the car and pulls on his beanie, leaning over to gently touch at the tape bandage that they put over the cut on Ethan’s cheek. It doesn’t cover the bruise, though, unfortunately. Greg has a solid arm. 

“No..it’s just..what you said last night. Was it true? Or were you sleeping? O-or was it just you being high? Or, or—“

“What? What did I say?” 

Ethan chews on his lip, huffing an awkward laugh. God, of course he doesn’t remember. Because why would he? 

“I mean..it wasn’t, like, I wasn’t expecting it to be s-something you wanted to, um—“

“Just tell me, baby.” Mark looks fond, smile playing at his lips. The petname is very unhelpful. Ethan blushes terribly, heart absolutely pounding in his chest. 

“Y-you..” the bell rings from the school, and Ethan looks at the building through the windshield in relief, “we need to go before we’re late.” 

Mark complies, falling in step next to him as they head inside. Usually they have to part by hall two, having different classes due to Mark being a senior, but before they can separate, the man leans in and pecks his forehead. 

“My memory gets foggy when I’m high, but I’ll probably remember before school lets out.” He pulls away and gives him an absolutely infuriating wink, then he walks away cooly. 

Ethan fiddles with his bag straps and turns to walk the opposite direction. He only makes it a few feet before he’s yanked into the men’s bathroom. Fearing it’s an attack, he shields his head, eyes squeezing shut. 

“Woah, I’m not going to hurt you, Ethan. Please. I just want to make sure you’re okay.” It’s Greg. The guy looks like shit, with deep bags under his eyes and his hair scruffy under the cap he’s wearing. 

Ethan can’t help but flinch when Greg lifts a hand to his face. The guy cringes and touches at the bruise, looking terribly sad. 

“God, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for everything.” 

“I-I’m going to be late.” Ethan replies, and moves to leave the toilets, but he trips over his own two feet, and would probably fall if Greg didn’t catch him. 

“Shit, careful.” Greg says, tongue darting out to moisten his lips as he pulls him to his feet, eyes a little too dark. 

The door opens next to them. It’s probably the last person that would be helpful right about now. 

“Is this why you told me to back off? Cause you’re a fucking faggot too?” David says, the bruises that Mark gave him barely healed. He looks between the two of them with a scoff. 

“I told you to back off cause you’re a fucking psychopath and he hasn’t done anything to us!” 

“What’d you call me?!” 

They crash into each other faster than Ethan can blink. He stands against the stall door, eyes wide as the two fall to the floor, throwing punches and kicks everywhere they can. Greg overpowers the guy easily, and he just doesn’t stop, even grabbing David’s head and slamming it into the tile below with a sickening crack. 

Ethan stumbles out of the restroom and across the hall to the nearest classroom. It’s some history class. They all look at him when he slams into the room. He shakes violently, eyes wide. 

“They—they—please, c-come stop them.” The teacher seems to realise something’s wrong. He follows him out of the room and across the hall. 

A crowd forms rather quickly. The teacher pulls Greg off, and the guy comes off still swinging as if David is still fighting. He screams incoherently, going fucking insane. 

Ethan can only watch, heart racing as he stares into the open door at David. Laying still in a pool of blood. 

-

“What happened, Ethan? What happened?” Mark steps into the principals office and crouches down in front of him. 

“You can’t be in here!” The secretary seems to be trying to stop him, but she falters when Ethan wraps his arms around Mark’s neck and starts to cry. 

Mark seems to be far gone from caring about people seeing them together. Both of his parents and Ethan’s dad watch as the boys embrace. Mark’s saying something to him over and over that seem to be making their parents shocked.

“I love you, I love you so much.” He’s saying, Ethan realises. It only makes his sob harder. Mark sways them gently, comforting him as he cries. He seemed to have remembered, then, but there’s too much going on for that to be addressed right now. 

“D-David’s in the ICU. Gre—Greg fucking kept hitting him even after he was down. He w-wouldn’t stop. The blood..the blood—“ 

“Shh, okay, shh. It’s okay. Everything will be okay.” 

It takes Ethan quite a while to calm down, especially when he knows his dad is watching. His dad who’s been working nonstop for weeks and knows literally nothing about anything. But he does. Calm down, that is. 

“Okay. I think we’ll let school out for a few days while the investigation goes on. Um, you’re free to go, Ethan. The camera in the hallway has cleared you.”

So they leave. Their parents try to separate them, but both boys refuse, clinging onto each other like lifelines. Ethan’s dad volunteers to take them, saying something about needing to give them a talk. 

They ride in the back of his car, Ethan’s head on Mark’s shoulder, sniffling and watching the trees fly by the windows in a blur, avoiding the looks he knows his dad is giving them through the rearview window. 

At home, they sit together on the couch. Dad makes them all glasses of water, then he settles into his raggedy chair. 

“Okay..I know I haven’t been around much, but this has gone on too long, Ethan. I need you to tell me everything. Everything and anything I’ve missed.” 

“D-dad—“

“No. I’m not going to ignore this. I had a feeling you were hiding something, but a kid is in the hospital and the other is in custody, and I have no idea how you could’ve possibly been involved. Tell me everything. Now.”

Ethan nods, folding his knees under himself nervously. Mark takes his hand and gives him an encouraging look. It’s helpful. He takes a deep breath. 

“Okay. So..in the summer, I decided to climb a tree...” 

-

‘Dear Ethan Nestor,

Today is the last day before Christmas break. Things are different now. Nobody pushes me in the hall. I don’t have to look over my shoulder when I step outside. It’s nice. I think my senior year will really be different. I think I might even make some friends. I don’t have much to write about. For the first time, I feel alright. I think I might even stop writing for a while. I don’t think I need to anymore. 

Until next time,

-Me’

Ethan presses print, and logs off of the computer. He collects his things, packing his rucksack, and sends a smile to Betty as he makes his way over to the printer. He walks with his chin up, hardly a care in the world. He feels good. 

At the printer, he pulls the paper out but finds his letter is drastically shortened. His eyebrows furrow as he looks at the letter in his hands. 

‘Dear Ethan Nestor,

I love you.

-M’

He looks up from the paper and sees Mark is leaned up against the brick wall with a smirk. 

He blushes as the printer coughs up his actual letter, and Mark makes his way over. 

“Cheesy.” Ethan mumbles when he’s close. The man shrugs and leans in to give him a sweet kiss. It still makes his heart skip. 

“Maybe, but it’s true.” 

“I love you too.” Ethan replies, folding up both letters and stuffing them into his pocket. He circles his arms around Mark’s neck as they kiss. 

Betty clears her throat from the counter, eyebrow raised sternly, but smiling. The boys pull away and make their way out of the library, giggling as they go. 

“Well, we’re on break. Wanna go to the orchard?” Mark asks, swinging their clasped hands between them. 

“Yeah.” Ethan sighs, and can’t help but just smile for no reason. It’s a new feeling, to just feel happy without anything really causing him to. He’s not the only one. Mark hasn’t had an episode in months, nor a single puff of smoke. 

He’s happy. They’re both happy. It’s good. It might even be good for a long time. For forever. 

**Author's Note:**

> Leave any thoughts in the comments below :)


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